


The Time Of His Life

by Aziz



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Double Penetration, Fivesome - M/M/M/M/M, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm ashamed of myself, M/M, Orgy, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Spitroasting, The Witcher Kink Meme, Verbal Humiliation, jaskier is sad about geralt and decides to have an orgy with four dwarves to feel better, no beta we die like witchers, yes i googled the dwarves names those are official names its on the imdb look it up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:15:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22653094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aziz/pseuds/Aziz
Summary: All of Geralt can go fuck itself, because Jaskier is going to have the time of his life fucking four dwarves in a forest. Yes.written for theprompt:post ep6, Jaskier heads down the mountain with the dwarves. They decide since they generously escorted him that maybe he owes them something in return. Jaskier thinks an orgy might be the perfect distraction from Geralt.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion/Yarpen Zigrin/Yannick Brass/Xavier Moran/Lucas Corto, Jaskier | Dandelion/dwarves
Comments: 15
Kudos: 227
Collections: Witcher Kink Meme (Dreamwidth)





	The Time Of His Life

The trip down is quiet. Well, not entirely - Jaskier is quiet. The four dwarves he follows are in good spirits - since they get the reward for killing a dragon without actually killing it - so they talk the same amount they talked on the way up. But they don’t try to engage Jaskier in their talks, which is understandable, because they don’t really have much to say to him and neither does he. In addition, Jaskier most likely does not look like a great company right now - he’s trying to hold back tears, constantly sniffling and wiping at his face with the sleeve of his doublet. He must look like a wreck. A brokenhearted man.

Jaskier has always known, deep down, that Geralt would always choose Yennefer over him. That he would always love her more than Jaskier, no matter how many times Jaskier falls into bed with him. That Jaskier is just a placeholder when Yennefer is not there. That Jaskier is just a friend and a warm mouth and a warm hole, meanwhile Yennefer is something much more. But he has never expected to be pushed away even after Yennefer leaves. He has never expected to find out just how little he means to Geralt. That he’s a thorn in Geralt’s side and nothing more.

So Jaskier focuses on the trail and the presence of the dwarves a few feet before him, watches where he steps with great interest and keeps pointedly not thinking about Geralt and about his broken heart. When he trips over a rock, the dwarves don't help him up, but they stop and wait for him, which feels like more than Geralt has ever done. Sometimes, one of them even turns around to check if he’s alright. Mostly when he takes too long to get up. But Jaskier appreciates it nonetheless. He probably would not be able to get down the mountain by himself.

At night, they set up camp. Jaskier holds his lute close and cries himself to sleep. When he wakes up the next morning, he decides he won’t think about Geralt anymore. And he doesn’t.

Until they finally reach the clearing where they all tied up their horses four days ago and Jaskier’s eyes land on Roach, Geralt’s faithful companion. Even more faithful than Jaskier, but that is only because Roach does not understand a word of what Geralt says. If she did, she would leave him years ago - because she definitely has more common sense than Jaskier does. As he watches the mare, something twists in his gut painfully, so he averts his eyes and keeps not thinking of Geralt.

Yarpen speaks up behind his back and Jaskier quickly whips around to face him. “Since we so generously escorted you…”

Jaskier should have seen this coming. Nobody does things from the kindness of their soul, and especially not dwarves. He fiddles with one of his golden rings, tries to remember how many coins there are in his pouch right now. The dwarves are watching him with anticipation in their eyes.

With anticipation and something else, something akin to what flickers in Geralt's golden eyes when he wants Jaskier to get on his knees.

Oh. They want this kind of payment.

Jaskier is not shocked or revolted by this thought. He uses his body as a payment, from time to time. He sleeps with people in exchange for a warm dinner and a warm bed, when the money's tight. He sleeps with people in exchange for favours, when he needs to slip out of a castle unnoticed. And he's no stranger to orgies, either. He has attended many, and he has been the centerpiece for everyone to use as well as an ordinary participant. Orgies are a lot of fun, in Jaskier's opinion.

They might be just enough fun to take his mind off of one bloody handsome, cruel, heartless witcher.

Besides, he has never had a dwarf in his long life of sleeping around. Why not remedy this by having four of them at once?

He breathes in deeply and decides to enjoy himself. He schools his face into something sexy and carefree. He’s going to get fucked by four dwarves and he’s going to enjoy it. “Of course,” he says, and rests his lute case against a nearby tree. “I do have to thank you for that favour, kind sirs. What do you want me to do?”

Yarpen and his buds trade pleased smirks. “First you should lose all that finery,” Yarpen points at his clothes, “wouldn’t want us to ruin it, would you, pretty boy?”

Jaskier shakes his head and makes quick work of unbuttoning his doublet. He shrugs it off and lays it carefully next to his lute. Then he pulls his tunic over his head, unlaces his breeches. Toes off his boots and steps out of his pants. In the corner of his eye, he can see the dwarves palming themselves through their clothes. He’s glad they are enjoying the view.

Jaskier’s smallclothes go last, and he’s almost surprised to find himself already half-hard. Well, that’s what feeling desired does to him. 

He puffs out his chest, letting them look. “Done. What’s next?”

“Get on all fours,” one of the dwarves - Jaskier vaguely remembers the others calling him Xavier - orders.

“Like a dog,” another dwarf quips.

Jaskier goes to the ground. The pineneedles bite into his bare knees and palms, but he pushes it out of his mind, just as he keeps pushing Geralt out.

The dwarves step closer to him, their pants stil laced up. One pets his hair, runs his hand through it; another caresses his face; Xavier gropes his pec; Yarpen takes a handful of his ass and squeezes, pulling his cheek to the side to get a look at his hole.

Jaskier suddenly remembers - “Do you - do you have oil?” he blurts out, “Anything to ease the way?”

This stops Yarpen, for a split second. “We’ll make do,” he says finally, “I think we still have some oil for our swords left.”

Jaskier closes his eyes and thinks it over. Sword oil is not the worst thing in the world - it definitely is infinitely better than spit - but. But Jaskier is used to his sweet-smelling herbal oils. He’s used to a certain level of luxury, and he knows where to find it - he knows that there is a perfectly good vial of their - no, _his_ oil in Roach’s left saddlebag. The question is, is it better to suffer a bit of discomfort, or tell these near-strangers what he and Geralt get up to after dark?

Fuck it. Jaskier deserves it. He deserves a nice oil, not something to slather a sword with. It’s worth the embarrassment.

“Wait,” he says. “The - the brown horse - the witcher’s horse. In her left saddlebag, there should be a bottle of oil.”

The dwarves all exchange a meaningful look over his body. They smile, pity and amusement at once.

“Lucas,” Yarpen says. “Go fetch it.”

Lucas stops petting Jaskier’s hair and does as he’s told. Jaskier’s stomach churns at the sight of someone digging around in Roach’s saddlebags, but he calms himself by reminding himself that Lucas is just getting something that’s rightfully his for him. Jaskier bought it, with his own money, for himself, so it is his. No number of times Geralt had used it to prepare him, to get him ready for Geralt’s dick, makes it theirs. It’s Jaskier’s. And he’s getting it back, because there will be no next time.

Xavier pinches his nipple. “Don’t worry. You won’t be crying over a witcher’s cock when you finally get fucked by a dwarf.”

So they have heard him. Good to know. He nods. “I’ll hold you to that,” he smiles. Once again, he reminds himself: he’s going to enjoy this. He’s going to enjoy this so much. Geralt can go fuck himself. Geralt and his gorgeous cock and his huge, clever hands. All of Geralt can go fuck itself, because Jaskier is going to have the time of his life fucking four dwarves in a forest. Yes.

Lucas returns with the bottle and passes it to Yarpen. Yarpen uncorks it and pours some on his fingers, rubs the slick against Jaskier’s hole.

Jaskier takes in a sharp breath.

“Open up,” says the fourth dwarf, still caressing his cheek, running a thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone, and unlacing his trousers with his other hand.

Jaskier does. He opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out, lays it over his bottom teeth to be as inviting as he can.

The dwarf finally gets his cock free, and so do Lucas and Xavier. The dwarves’ cocks are shorter than most men’s Jaskier’s been with - definitely shorter than Geralt - but they are thick - almost as thick as Geralt is. They are actually perfectly proportionate, considering their height. Besides, Jaskier knows it’s not just about the instrument, but it’s about what you do with it. A lute can be finely tuned, but a person that has never touched it before won’t be able to make it sound beautiful -

Yarpen pushes a finger past his rim. Jaskier yelps at the burn, but then the nameless dwarf guides him to his cock and Jaskier suddenly has something else to focus on than the thick finger pressing into him and withdrawing. Geralt’s fingers are bigger, and he chooses a rhythm very different from this one -

No thinking about Geralt. Just enjoying himself.

He seals his lips around the head of the dwarf’s cock and starts taking it further, before he finally buries his nose in the coarse hair above it. He feels it at the back of his throat, feels his lips stretch around the thickness of it. It was quicker and easier than he has expected. He’s used to Geralt’s monstrous cock, so long he has to wrap his hands around it when he blows him -

Two dicks press against his cheeks and smear sticky precum over his face. Lucas grabs a handful of his hair and drags him off of the cock in his mouth. Yarpen adds a finger and it forces a moan out of Jaskier’s throat. Lucas takes opportunity of his open mouth and pushes his cock in right next to the other one.

“That’s a good boy,” Lucas croons, as he uses Jaskier’s hair to guide his head so the two dwarves can shallowly fuck his mouth. “So good for us, don’t you think, Yannick?” Ah, so that’s the name of the last member of Jaskier’s merry company. Nice to know - on the other hand, Jaskier doesn’t really need to know someone’s name to suck their brain out through their dick.

Xavier keeps rubbing the head of his cock against Jaskier’s bulging cheeks. Yarpen starts scissoring his fingers inside of him, and Jaskier spreads his legs just a bit wider, to make the stretch easier.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Yannick comments, “and that’s not even the real thing.”

Oh, how many times has Geralt had him come on his fingers alone? So that he could fuck his pliant, relaxed body, feather-light with orgasm? Jaskier had loved it, the feeling of being used for the witcher’s pleasure - but now the feeling of being used means something else and Jaskier can no longer look at those nights with fondness. But he whines, nonetheless, at the memory the words bring.

Third finger slips in almost unnoticed, because Jaskier focuses on sucking the two dicks in his mouth. He hollows his cheeks, he swallows, he presses his tongue against them - tongues the slits and tastes their precum.

The fingers leave him and he feels terribly empty. He keens and he’s about to pull away from the dicks in his mouth and beg to be filled again, when something thicker than fingers rubs against his hole.

Finally.

Yarpen pushes in, slow but not overly cautious. He’s probably just savouring the moment. “Wouldn’t have guessed I’d finish the dragon hunt with fucking the White Wolf’s little whore,” he sighs when he’s fully sheathed.

Jaskier feels himself blush. “‘m not - ” he mumbles around the cocks in his mouth.

Yarpen pats his flank in a somewhat comforting gesture. “Of course, of course,” he says. “Not anymore.”

Actually, it’s true. Well, close enough to truth, anyway. The thing is: whores usually get paid for their services. Jaskier was foolish enough, pathetic enough, to do all of it for free. He’s not a whore, he’s something much worse: he’s hopelessly in love.

But that ends now. He’s having an orgy with four dwarves he barely knows, and he’s. Having. The. Time. Of. His. Life. Maybe, if he thinks it enough times, he’ll start to believe it.

“Get a move on, Yarpen,” Xavier grunts, “You’re not the only one that wants a piece of that pretty ass.”

“With how tight he is, you would never guess he had a witcher before.” Yarpen bottoms out and slams back into Jaskier so hard his arms nearly give out, But Lucas’ hand in his hair thankfully steadies him. When the next thrust comes, Jaskier already knows what to expect, so he merely buckles, and by the third he stands his ground and takes it like a champ. The pace Yarpen sets is brutal, but Jaskier is already used to taking similar from Geralt - sometimes even harder - so he actually welcomes it. He does not want gentle and tender. He wants to cum so hard he’ll forget who Geralt of Rivia is. “Look at you,” Yarpen heaves, “couldn’t even get off the mountain by yourself, but you were made for this, weren’t you, bard-boy?”

Yarpen is thick and below average, but with a clever snap of his hips, he brushes against that spot in Jaskier that makes him see stars. He moans, loud, around the cocks in his mouth, and with a huff, Yannick cums in his mouth. The taste of him is salty and bitter, and he almost starts choking on it, but he manages to swallow. Yannick pulls out, and Xavier takes his place, stuffs himself into Jaskier’s mouth right next to Lucas.

Yannick runs a hand over Jaskier’s sweaty back, then dips it under him and closes a fist around Jaskier’s hard leaking cock. “Come on,” Yannick says, stroking him, “show us how much you’re enjoying yourself. Show us how you like dwarven cock, you little pervert - can’t stick to humans, can you? First a witcher, now dwarves, what’s it gonna be next? A dragon?”

Lucas actually laughs at that, a little breathless. Jaskier can’t bring himself to feel ashamed, not when Yarpen is driving into him in a rather delicious angle and his mouth is full of cock. He actually thinks he might fuck a dragon if it meant getting Geralt off his mind and out of his heart.

Xavier pulls his dick out of Jaskier’s mouth. Before Jaskier has any time to be confused about that, thick ropes of cum land on his face. His eyelids flutter closed on instinct, which is good because he feels one spurt hit him in the eye. He’s fairly certain there is some in his hair, and he feels some dripping down his chin -

Lucas grunts and buries himself deep in Jaskier’s throat as he comes, most likely spurred on by the picture Jaskier makes, face covered in spend and lips red from sucking cock.

“Look at you,” Yannick says. “Such a good slut. So good for us. Gonna make a song about this, too? About getting used by a bunch of dwarves?” He tugs on Jaskier’s cock, once, twice, thrice, and Jaskier writhes and cums, shooting his load on the ground. He feels himself clamping down, body tightening as his orgasm wrecks through him, and as he does, Yarpen behind him groans and spills inside him.

Jaskier heaves and tries to catch his breath. His body is lax and light with pleasure. He feels nice. Very nice. He hears the dwarves shuffle around, but Jaskier is too busy gathering his wits to pay them any actual attention.

There’s a delicious moment when he feels Yarpen’s seed gushing out of him. He shudders. Geralt used to fill him to the brim, watch it leak out and then he licked it off of and out of Jaskier and it was absolutely divine - 

A finger sweeps it up and pushes it back into him. Jaskier moans.

“Like a bitch in heat,” one of the dwarves says and Jaskier can’t really tell which one it is. Maybe Yannick, he said that before - but he’s not sure. He doesn’t really care.

A hand slides into Jaskier’s hair and pulls, forces Jaskier to look up at yet another hard cock being shoved into his face and even higher, at the face of the dwarf the cock belongs to. Yarpen, and right next to him stands Yannick, playing with his own half-soft dick.

Fucking non-humans and their fucking stamina. Of course there will be round two. Jaskier doesn’t object - he’s used to Geralt coming three times on a slow night, when they just fucked and didn’t even try.

Something blunt and thick and slick with oil nudges at his hole. Jaskier feels himself twitch, and suddenly there’s more cum spilling out of him.

“Such a pretty hole,” Xavier says.

“Even prettier than his mouth,” Lucas agrees. “Definitely more useful.”

Yarpen pushes his cock past Jaskier’s lips. He tastes like cum and oil and _Jaskier_ , and it’s incredibly filthy. Jaskier whines low in his throat, and gets to work once again.

Lucas oils his fingers and starts playing with Jaskier’s hole, fingering him and pressing against his rim and Jaskier screws his eyes shut in pleasure.

Xavier speaks up. "Think you can take two?"

Oh, fuck. Yes. Geralt is thick - not as thick as two dwarves combined, but thick enough for Jaskier to be confident in his abilities, especially with how relaxed his body feels after his orgasm. Yes. He can take two. If only to prove to himself that his world does not begin and end with Geralt, that there are _bigger_ and _better_ things than Geralt. "Yeah," he rasps, when Yarpen pulls him off of his cock. "I can take it."

“Good boy - so fearless,” Yannick says. “A true witcher’s whore. Ready for everything.”

That’s what Jaskier is. A used-to-be witcher’s whore. But right now, he is enjoying himself.

One cock sinks into him, and he wills himself to relax and to breathe deep and finally, he feels another forcing its way inside. It burns, but it’s actually very nice. Even nicer when he focuses on sucking Yarpen’s cock clean instead of the pain, and watching Yannick tug on his cock from under his lashes. Before he knows it, they’re both inside, nested comfortably next to each other.

Jaskier feels so fucking full. He has never felt this full in his life, not even Geralt could fill him in such a way, not even Geralt could make him feel as good as he feels right now, because he is having the time of his life.

As they start to move, Jaskier feels his poor, spent cock give an interested twitch.

Oh, he’s enjoying himself so fucking much.


End file.
